


Never Warmer

by Anonymous



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, M/M, Owls, Pining, Schmoop, Sculpture, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles never expected to rescue a man halfway buried in the snow, nor did he expect to fall in love under these conditions, but Erik has a knack for defying Charles's expectations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/gifts).



> Massive thanks to Clawfoottub for being a spectacular (and patient) beta reader.
> 
> Note to Unforgotten: I did try to keep Shaw out of this completely, but the plot didn't quite make sense without him. He gets a few mentions, but all are in past tense as he's already dead when the story starts. I hope this is still to your liking!

Stages of Bond Development

1-    The Pull: An instant draw or attraction (not necessarily of a sexual nature, though that is often a component.) This stage is often indistinguishable from regular fascination, infatuation, and/or lust.

2-    Synchronization: As the bond grows, soulmates begin to regulate to one-another’s psionic energies. At this stage, they begin to receive each other’s emotions at short-range, but they cannot control the volume at which they receive emotions to begin with. Shared dreaming is frequently reported.

3-    Complete Bond: Once a complete bond is formed, soulmates can receive one-another’s emotions faintly at long range. At this stage, soulmates can adjust the volume at which they receive one another’s emotions, or even choose to tune out each other’s emotions completely. If one is injured however, the other will feel an echo of physical pain, regardless of range, even if they have chosen to tune out their soulmate’s emotions.

Each stage can last any length of time. There is no way to predict how long the bonding process will take.

 

\-------

 

           It was one of those weeks when his telepathy felt more like a curse than a gift. The students were so busy with worrying about their finals getting closer and with finding the perfect holiday gifts for loved ones… It made Charles’s head buzz and throb, and it made him uncomfortably aware of how much control he had yet to learn. After his last class ended on Friday, he simply couldn’t stand it anymore and he bolted to his car. He’d never been gladder that he’d accepted a job at a school just an hour away from the woods. He’d known from the start that it would be a challenge to be constantly surrounded by so many minds. He remembered as much from his own days in college. But he had frequently dulled his telepathy with alcohol in that time, and he’d been far less concerned with the privacy of others. The constant presence of so many other minds was a greater strain than he’d remembered it to be. The chance to retreat into an expanse of trees and earth and _silence_ struck him as the perfect escape. Reluctant as he was to admit it, there had already been several weekends when he’d driven to his rented cabin and just wandered around the surrounding area until he’d finally felt like himself again.

           On this particular day it was a more arduous process than usual, and Charles had no idea how long he’d been out in the woods until the dark began to creep in. It was unseasonably cold; here it was, only just November, and already the snow was thick on the ground. Staying out in the forest after dark would only add frozen limbs on top of the ache in his head. A resigned puff of air slipped from his mouth as he prepared to return to the little house. Charles’ head still felt too full of thoughts that weren’t his own, but he supposed there was nothing to be done about that except to wait it out. He was nearly to the cabin when he caught a dark shape in his periphery. It was something in the snow, just to the side of the path. Thinking it might be some kind of wild animal, Charles approached quietly. What he saw was a man, partially submerged in snow. His clothes were all wrong for the weather, just a thin turtleneck shirt and jeans. His skin was too pale even for the season and his lips showed the slightest trace of blue. Charles gasped and dropped to his knees and reached out with his mind, headache be damned. There was a living brain there, at least, but the thoughts were blurry and distorted, incoherent. The man was called Erik, but that was the only scrap of information Charles could decipher.

           “Can you hear me?” he asked urgently. The only reply was a quiet grunt. “You can’t stay here, you’ll freeze!”

            “I’m fine,” Erik mumbled, voice distant and bleary. “Buried myself in snow. Read that keeps you warm... somewhere.”

            “That was a very bad idea,” Charles kept his tone as even as he could manage, though the uneasy sensation from the other man’s mind had yet to clear. “Give me your hand.”

            Erik did, but made no move to rise.

            “Right,” Charles muttered. “I guess I’ll have to pick you up myself.”

            Erik snorted derisively, but Charles was used to having others underestimate his strength. He wrenched Erik out of the snow and tugged the man’s arm over his shoulder, bracing him with an arm around his waist before surging to his feet.

            “You’re going to have to move your feet, but you can put most of your weight on me. My cabin’s close by.”

            “Shouldn’t take in strangers,” Erik slurred with a smirk. “It’s dangerous.”

            “In your condition, I doubt you’re going to pose much of a threat. Come on.”

            They made their way to the cabin at a crawling pace, but at last they arrived and Charles was able to set Erik down on the bed. His back and shoulders ached nearly as much as his head, but he shoved that thought away and set about finding as many blankets as he could, bringing them to Erik.

            “Take your clothes off,” he ordered as he started a fire in the fireplace.

            “Bit forward of you.” And that damn smirk was back again. Did the man not realize how dangerous his situation could have been, or did he just not care?

            “Your clothing is cold and wet, and being wet lowers your body temperature. I’ll find you something clean to wear, and you have plenty of blankets in the mean time.”

            Erik fumbled with the hem of his shirt but couldn’t seem to get a grip on it. _Apparent loss of fine motor skills… not a good sign._ Charles undressed Erik with near medical efficiency, too concerned for the man’s wellbeing to be embarrassed. He wrapped a blanket tightly around Erik’s shoulders and draped another over his legs before heading off again to put the kettle on. He pulled a set of flannel pajamas from the dresser and got Erik into them with minimal fuss. Since the water hadn’t yet begun to boil, he changed into his own pajamas and sat down next to Erik.

            “Let me see your hands.” Erik held them out for Charles’s examination. They were still much too cold to the touch, but there was a little color returning to the fingers at least. Charles held Erik’s hands between his own, rubbing at them gently, and for the first time he had a moment to really look at the man. Erik was significantly taller than Charles and he had broad shoulders, but he was thin and lean-muscled and his waist was very narrow. The contours of his nose and mouth were firm and straight. His eyes were an imprecise shade of grey-blue-green that contrasted sharply with his brown lashes, and the overall effect was… Stunning.

            And maybe Charles wasn’t controlling his telepathy quite as thoroughly as he’d thought because Erik pressed his lips against Charles’s own. He made a content little hum when Charles unthinkingly opened his mouth, and Charles wanted nothing more than to press all of his warmth into Erik and… Erik’s lips tasted faintly of alcohol. Charles pulled back as gently as he could manage.

            “Ah, you’re drunk. That explains why you thought it was a good idea to lie in the snow.”

            Erik nodded dully, but it was an acknowledgment that Charles had spoken rather than an agreement.

            The kettle began to whistle, and Charles was glad for the excuse to move away. He needed to calm down and to do the sensible thing and _not_ to kiss this man. He poured hot water into a large mug and opened the box of assorted teas he kept on the counter.

            “What kind of tea would you like?”

            Erik raised a disdainful eyebrow. “Tea?”

            “Yes. We need to get something warm in you.”

            “You’re warm,” Erik said, his voice a low rumble. “I’d like to get you in me.”’

            Charles couldn’t help the flush that settled on his cheeks, nor could he avoid the stutter of his heart. _At any other time, under any other circumstances, I’d have taken you in a heartbeat._ “I’ll choose for you, then. Does chamomile sound alright?” Erik voiced a noncommittal grunt that Charles chose to take as assent. “Honey? Sugar?”

            “Pet names already?”

            “Erik, you’re drunk and quite possibly suffering from a mild to moderate case of hypothermia.” _Please, don’t tempt me; I like you far more than I ought to already. Pet names mean attachment, and I don’t even know you. And I’ll already miss you when you go._

            “But you’re delicious and your blood is spectacular.” That, at least, was not a temptation.

            “What’s this about my blood?” Charles asked as he took the mug over to Erik. “Are you back to trying to convince me that you’re some kind of serial killer? Be careful, the tea’s still very hot.”

            “Convince you what?”

            “You were telling me earlier how dangerous it was for me to take you here,” Charles prompted.

            “Right, that. No, this is different. I can feel the iron in blood. I like the way yours feels.”

            Charles sat in puzzled silence for a moment before it finally dawned on him. “Oh,” he breathed in delight. “You’re a mutant too?”

            “Metallokinetic” Erik proudly informed him. “And you just said ‘too.’ So what’s your power?”

            “I’m a telepath. That’s how I knew your name.”

            “Mmm. Never told me yours, though. Rude.”

            Former melancholy dispelled by Erik’s good humor, Charles couldn’t help but laugh. “Do pardon me for being too busy trying to ensure that you didn’t die! I’m Charles. Charles Xavier.”

            “Charles,” Erik repeated. “It suits you. Englishy.”

            “Just so. Now do shut up and drink your tea, there’s a good chap.”

            “Like your accent, too,” Erik continued.

            “Glad to hear it. Drink.”

            “Alright, alright,” Erik grumbled, but he did drink the tea.

            “Do you feel a little less cold now?”

            “Much. But I’d feel even better if I had you next to me to keep me warm as well.”

            The urge to warm Erik with his body had never quite left Charles, but now he realized the extent to which it had taken hold. Beyond the desire was an instinct to protect, to give Erik what he needed, to give him a fundamental part of himself. _Of course. God, this must be what the Pull is like. I’d always wondered…_  “Alright, but only to sleep.”

            Erik set down the tea mug and raised his open hands in gesture of surrender. “Just sleeping. I promise.”

            “As long as that’s clear then.” Charles rose to turn off the lights, then slid under the blankets next to Erik. Erik pulled him closer, but made no move other than to nuzzle gently at his hair. It was still far earlier than Charles ever went to bed, but Erik radiated such contented exhaustion that he found himself drifting off to sleep almost instantly. It was only as he closed his eyes that he realized his headache had gone.

 

\-------

 

            Charles woke the next morning just as the sun was coming up. His immediate impulse was to reach for Erik with his mind, but he stopped himself at the last moment. Erik was very attractive, and when drunk, very affectionate, but that didn’t give Charles the right to presume that level of contact. He resolved to observe Erik’s condition only with his baseline senses, and was satisfied to feel that Erik’s hands were warm, that his pulse was strong and steady, and that he was breathing evenly. Charles pried himself away from Erik as gently as he could, dressed, brushed his teeth, and rekindled the fire. He put more water in the kettle and left it on the stove before giving in to the urge to check on Erik again.

            He crossed back to the bed and perched lightly on the edge. Slack with sleep, Erik’s face had a slightly softer look to it, and Charles felt incredibly privileged to be allowed to see it. He felt his breath catch, as he was overwhelmed with a sense of rightness. He couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like to wake to this sight each morning. And that was ridiculous because he had no way of confirming that what he was feeling was really the Pull, and yet there was a part of him that seemed to insist that Erik was the one. It was a breach of privacy and he knew it, but he still bent down to kiss Erik’s forehead fondly. Erik made a sleepily approving noise, but then he gave a start and seemed to come awake all at once. He sat up so quickly that he very nearly broke Charles’s nose.

            “What the hell—” his eyes settled on Charles and his shoulders rose defensively. “Oh.”

            “I’m not sure how much you remember,” Charles began.

            “More than I’d like to, I think.” That certainly didn’t sound promising.

            “Erik—”

            “I made an ass of myself.” Erik spoke quietly, between gritted teeth. “I apologize.”

            “It’s... fine.” _You didn’t feel it? You don’t want…?_  He restrained himself from projecting it, but just barely. “Can you tell me what you were doing out in the woods?” Erik’s lips went tight and he stared determinedly forward.

            “No. I don’t owe you any explanations.”

            “I never meant to imply that you did. It’s just that I’d feel a little better if I knew why you were lying out in the snow.” Charles rose from his seat on the bed and took the kettle off the stove. “Never mind that, then. What do you want for breakfast? I don’t have much here and I never got around to shopping, so I’m afraid your choices are limited to oatmeal or canned soup.”

            Erik offered him a closed-mouthed smile, still tense but clearly glad of the topic change. “The oatmeal would be fine. Just don’t make me drink any more of that awful tea. If you have any coffee, on the other hand…”

            “None to speak of, sorry. I can’t stand the stuff.”

           Erik snorted at him but swung his legs over the edge of the bed and joined Charles in the kitchenette. Even dressed as he was in Charles’s pajamas, which were at once too short for him and too baggy, something about his posture gave him an air of effortless grace.

           Charles prepared the oatmeal and after some searching, managed to track down some cinnamon, a few cardboard cartons of raisins, and a little bag of brown sugar. Erik scoffed at the amount of sugar Charles added to his food but he ended up snagging nearly all of the raisins. They ate without speaking, but it wasn’t especially uncomfortable. He was surprised when Erik was the one to break the silence.

           “How old are you anyway? You’re clearly too young to have your own winter home, but it’s obvious that you don’t live here year round.”

           “I’m older than I look. I’m probably the only professor who still gets mistaken for a student. And it’s not a winter home as such. It’s a rental.” Erik arched his eyebrows sardonically. “Think of it as… Are you a science-fiction fan by any chance?”

           Erik shrugged. “I’ve read a few books and seen some movies.”

           “Well, think of the college as a spaceship, then, and this as my escape-pod.”

           If anything, Erik appeared more skeptical than he had before. “What would _you_ possibly need to escape from?” The words were spoken harshly, and yet Charles could tell that Erik was thinking of something unrelated to Charles, another place and another time.

           Charles stirred honey into his tea and took a slow sip, careful not to burn his tongue. “I haven’t spent so much time with so many people around for a long time. It’s a small school, so there are less than two thousand students, but it’s difficult to focus or rest with that many minds all spinning away. And they live there, so it’s not as if the ones who aren’t in class go away. I do what I can to block them out, but I can still feel them there. Sometimes I can barely tell which thoughts are theirs and which are mine. I’ve heard things I never wanted to hear, especially from the minds of children, and it’s just… It’s better when I’m at home, but it’s still never quiet enough. Sometimes I need some distance.”

           “I hadn’t thought about that,” Erik murmured.

           “It’s not something anyone but a telepath would think of.”

           Silence took over again. Charles finished his oatmeal and returned to sipping his tea.

           “Have you been living here long?” he asked when the silence became too much to bear. “Or are you new to the area too?”

           Erik stood up to clear the bowls and waved a hand to turn on the taps.

           “There’s no need for you to do that,” Charles protested, but Erik just shrugged and squirted dish soap on to the sponge that rested on the lip of the sink.

           “If it dries on the side of the bowl it’ll be a hassle to scrape it off. I’ve lived here for about three years now.”

           “In the woods? What do you do out here?” Charles could imagine him as a lone huntsman from a fairy-tale, and the idea made him smile though he was fairly sure that Erik wouldn’t approve.

           “I mostly sculpt when I’m at home. It’s not a steady job, so I work at a jewelry shop in Creeks End, too.”

           “Hmm. My sister lives out that way but I don’t think I’ve ever been in the town itself.”

           “You’re not missing much,” Erik said. “There’s the shop and a god-awful diner, and that’s about it.”

           Charles drained the remainder of his tea and rose to join Erik at the sink. They stood close enough to touch as they finished the washing up. Charles wanted to burrow into Erik’s mind and see what it was like without the blur of drunkenness. At the very least he wanted to butt up against Erik’s jaw and burry his face in Erik’s neck. He settled for fantasizing about it instead. Erik had already made it clear that he wasn’t interested and there was no point in putting himself through another rejection.

           “Think my clothes will still be sopping wet?” Erik asked as he finished drying the dishes.

           “I’m afraid so. You’re welcome to borrow some of mine, though. I think I have a pair of corduroys here that I never got hemmed, so they might be long enough for you. I’ll check.” He sorted through the dresser until he came up with the pants in question as well as a white button-down shirt, boxer-briefs, socks, and a heavy woolen jacket. “Here you are. I hope these will fit.” He showed Erik to the bathroom and made a mental note to buy a spare toothbrush and comb. Just in case… But no. No, whatever tricks his mind or his body might be playing on him, he couldn’t afford to see what wasn’t there. Better to settle for a chance at friendship than to keep hoping for something more.

           Erik emerged from the bathroom dressed in Charles’s clothes, and the very idea of it filled Charles with warmth. Erik looked uncomfortable, though.

           “Thanks for your hospitality,” he said. “I’ll return these to you next weekend, if you’ll be here then.”

           “I’ll be here every weekend,” Charles answered, “but you don’t have to go right away. That is, if you don’t have anywhere else to be…”

           Erik’s smile was surprisingly warm and bright. “I have to go to work, but I’ll take you up on it another time, if you’re willing.”

           “That would be fine. Put your number in my cell, would you? I’ll text you with mine.”

           “Of course.”

           Charles started to walk towards the bed where he’d dumped his bag the night before, but he stopped when he saw the zipper undo itself. The phone slid from its pocket with ease and flew into Erik’s hand. Charles couldn’t help the joyous laugh that escaped him, and Erik flashed him a toothy grin, making the phone loop figure eights through the air before dropping it back to his palm to type in his number.

           “I’ll see you around,” he said, handing the phone back to Charles. And despite everything, somehow it sounded more like a promise than a farewell.

 

\-------

 

            In the weeks that followed, they fell into a pattern of almost incessant texts and phone calls. Charles usually felt uneasy about electronic communication because it just felt _wrong_ when he couldn’t feel a mind on the other side, but he found himself looking forward to any kind of contact with Erik. The weekends were the best, of course, because he could see Erik in person and they could stroll through the woods or spend long hours playing chess. The longing Charles felt for Erik never faded, but the friendship between them was far more important and Charles appreciated every moment of it.

Erik never ceased to fascinate Charles. He was well-spoken and enjoyed jokes and wordplay, but it was the things he didn’t say that drew Charles inexorably to him. There was sometimes a shadow behind his eyes, something old and tired but ever vigilant. It didn’t frighten Charles, though perhaps it should have. He’d never had a friend like Erik, and he very much doubted he’d ever have another. Even when they argued— and they frequently did, particularly over questions of ethics and mutant-human relations— it seemed to bring them closer in the end. The one thing they never discussed was that first night when they met. Although the question was still itching under his skin, Charles didn’t ask what Erik had been doing out in the snow. Erik kept silent on the subject as well, but perhaps it truly didn’t matter. It certainly seemed to Charles that the fact of their meeting was far more important than the circumstances that lead to it. Over all, they were happy together.

            Today, however, Erik was clearly agitated, and Charles desperately wished that he could look into his friend’s mind to find the reason. Erik’s one request of him had been for privacy in that respect, and of course Charles had promised at once. Now he almost regretted it. He peered at Erik across the chessboard, trying to determine the cause of his distress from the set of his lips and from the little lines that had already begun to emerge beside his eyes.

            “Why are you looking at me like that?” Erik asked, his voice gruff.

            “Like what? I’m simply waiting for you to make your move.”

            A pause, and then—

           “I get restless when I haven’t worked with metal in a while. I probably just need to sculpt something.”

           “If you have to go—” Charles began.

           “You can come with me, if you like.”

           At that moment, there was nothing in the world that Charles would have liked better, and he nearly said as much. Instead he settled for “I’d love to see how you do it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone create art with the use of their mutation.”

           “Alright then.”

           They walked quietly, perfectly in step, and it was all Charles could do not to grasp Erik and pull him close. Erik was still distracted. It was evident in his posture and in his silence, but most obviously in the metal glinting just above his right hand. Charles had seen it a few times before, a tiny golden star, six delicate gleaming points. It danced between Erik’s fingers in moments of weariness and or anger, but Erik didn’t look tired now, nor did he appear to be annoyed or even slightly irritated. He just seemed absorbed in the thoughts that Charles couldn’t allow himself to see.

           Upon reaching Erik’s house, the first things Charles noticed were the brass lions resting in front of the steps. Charles had never stood anywhere near this close to a real lion, but he guessed that the sculptures were probably scaled about to life-size. One seemed to be guarding the house, starting ahead with narrowed eyes, but the other was sprawled out half on its side and half on its back. Its face was turned toward the other and its head rested against the other’s paw. Its expression spoke of both great contentment and fond exasperation.

           “They’re lovely!” Charles exclaimed. “And you really made these?”

           “Do you think I’d lie to you, Charles?”

           “No, of course not. It’s just that I’ve never seen sculptures like these before. They’re _amazing._ ”

           Erik muttered his thanks and lead Charles to his workspace. The studio wasn’t anything like the ones at Charles’s college. It was a wooden building about the size of a shed with three walls like a blacksmith’s forge. Inside there was a table and a huge collection of scrap metal: sheets of tin and steel, buckets of small copper pieces and iron filings, bits of bronze and nickel and zinc.

           “How do you decide what to make with all this?”

           Erik shrugged. “Some of it’s commissioned, so I make whatever my client asks for, but the rest of it’s just instinctive.”

           “Hmm… So you help the metal become whatever it wants to be?”

           A scoff. “You _would_ put it like that. I make it into whatever _I_ think it should be. It doesn’t get a say in the matter.”

           “Right, of course. What are you going to make now, then?”

           “I don’t know yet. We’ll see.” Erik extended his arms, hands open and palms out, and the bucket of copper came to rest on the table before him. He moved his hands with the grace of a conductor, and as they rose and fell, the bits of metal began to turn in time, scraps pushing themselves to the edges and then tucking back under the others. He was shuffling them, Charles realized. Erik sorted through the pieces until at last he seemed to find what he was looking for. He set a few copper pieces aside and called a sheet of iron to him next. Finally a small bronze plate came to rest beside it. Erik started with the copper first, drawing the pieces up and merging them together and flattening the resulting clump to a consistent width. It hung motionless in the air for a moment as Erik inspected it, and when he found it to his liking, it began to turn again. It almost seemed to drape itself over an invisible form. What started as a fine sheet developed a round head and a small body, no more than half the length of Erik’s forearm. More copper formed legs and talons, and a pair of outspread wings. The bronze came next, covering the underside of the wings and belly and forming an almost skull-like layer over the head. And finally there was the iron, which settled in a fine coat over the talons, and which completed the face with shining eyes and a sharp beak. “Apparently it’s a barn owl,” Erik observed, letting it perch on the table’s edge.

           “Apparently? I thought you chose what to make ahead of time.”

           “I never said that, I just said I was the one controlling the final product. When I’m sculpting something just for the sake of making it, I’m not always conscious of what I’ve chosen until it starts to come together.”

           “That sounds a lot like what I said before,” Charles said with a laugh. “So why an owl? What were you thinking when you started making it?”

           Erik’s face, normally so incredibly expressive, slid into blankness and he closed his eyes. “Owls are said to symbolize wisdom, but they’re also thought to be harbingers of death. Barn owls in particular are said to see the unseen and hear what isn’t spoken.”

           “May I touch it?”

           Erik gave him a puzzled look. “Of course. It’s yours.”

           “Mine?”

           “That’s what I said, yes.”

           Charles ran a hand along the wings, observing the detailing of the feathers. The wings appeared to be quite delicate and the feathers were very fine, but there was nothing weak about the observing tilt of the head or the curve of the beak. “If I may correct you on one point,” Charles said, “owls are associated with death, but also with rebirth. This one certainly seems harmless enough.”

           “Of course it does. Dangerous things always do.”

 

           That night Charles dreamed of flexing metal, sparking with potential and singing beneath his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

           After that day, there were moments when Charles could have sworn that Erik wanted him: a collection of the times when Erik leaned just a little closer than he needed to or locked eyes with Charles for far too long, until Charles’s heartbeat raced and he had to bite his lip to hold back the words he knew better than to say. He felt it in the brush of their fingers when he loaned Erik a pencil to fill out the newspaper crosswords on a Sunday morning. It was there in the playful banter that bordered on flirting without ever entirely breaching that barrier.

           But then Erik would look away or continue as though it hadn’t mattered, and Charles would be left wondering if it had all been in his head. It was so hard to resist reading Erik or projecting his own emotions that Charles sometimes had to focus all his energy on just keeping his shields up. It was exhausting, and yet he wouldn’t have given it up for the world. He was more than happy to spend hours by Erik’s side, even if they didn’t speak, Charles grading papers and Erik reading or planning out the details of a commission. In those quiet moments, Charles felt closer to Erik than ever.

           Still, there were other times when Charles couldn’t help but wonder if Erik didn’t care for him after all. There were the times when Erik seemed to go cold and unresponsive, refusing to speak, or else starting fights that he and Charles were both too proud to back down from. Charles had no idea what to make of this dichotomy.

           And then the night came when Charles did the one thing he’d promised not to, when he delved into Erik’s mind. He hadn’t meant to do it, but he couldn’t keep a tight hold on his telepathy when he slept. He dreamed of a gaunt woman, old far before her time. She was trying so hard to be strong for him even though she was the one who needed to be protected. He held her hand and sat with her, saying prayers and wishing there was more that he could do as she began to fade before his eyes. He pushed a cart along corridors and scrubbed at windows and floors while the lawyers and businessmen passed by without so much as a glance in his direction. There was one who did look, but his expression of pity was worse than being ignored. And then there was a coffin and he was crying openly.

           There was more pain after that, but no more tears. A series of different houses passed before him, but he didn’t recognize any of them as home. A man sneered at him, created a world of hurt to draw out his powers, and when he could take no more, he struck out with all the force his rage had to offer. There was a long wait in a confined space after that, but he never once regretted his actions, though his sense of satisfaction as a hollow one. At last there was the stillness of the woods and the song of metal under his hands. There was a mouth that smirked, kindly cold, and a room full of metal and stone. There was something almost like respite, and yet there were moments when the tide closed over him and clutched at him, tried to pull him back. Everything went dark but a hand closed over his and pulled him up, so warm it almost burned.

           Charles woke with tears in his eyes and a tremor in his hands. He knew at once that these were Erik’s memories, and the idea of his friend hurting like that was unbearable. But there was nothing he could do to change the past, and besides that, he’d promised to stay out of Erik’s mind. All he could do for Erik was to focus harder on controlling his telepathy, unless this was evidence of a bond forming. A jolt of panic shot through him, but even as he felt it he knew that it wasn’t his own.

           “Oh,” he gasped. When he sensed a person’s emotions with his telepathy, it still felt like he was on the outside looking in. He felt empathy, certainly, but the lines between his own emotions and those of the people around him were still distinct unless a crowd was flooding him with sensation. There was a much thinner boundary between him and Erik. It made him think of semi-permeable membranes and the cell walls of plants. He could tell that Erik’s emotions were not his own, and yet he felt them as surely as if they had originated in his own mind and body.

           He had to go to Erik, to his _soulmate_. He needed to calm him and to show him that he wasn’t alone. He dressed as quickly as he could and raced out into the cold, but even as he tried to send Erik comfort, the panic was fading and anger was replacing it. The sky was still dark, but at that moment he could have found Erik by feel alone if he had to. He arrived at Erik’s door to find it bolted tight against him

           “Erik? Erik, what’s wrong?”

           “Go away, Charles.”

            “Please, just tell me! I can help! I want to help!”

            There was a wave of longing and regret and defiance. “No. I want you to leave. Do you understand?”

            _Of course I don’t understand! How could I?_ “At least look at me and tell me why. I need to know.”

            Erik opened the door but stood in the entrance and made no move to invite Charles in. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were dark and hollow in the low light. He was so terribly far away, even though they stood just feet apart.

            “There,” he said. “I’m looking at you. Now go.”

            “You haven’t told me why.”

            Erik’s lips parted and pulled back, but his expression was far from a smile. It was a grimace, a baring of teeth, a threat. He’d never looked at Charles this way before. “You want to know why? I thought I’d spare you that, but if you want to know you’ll find out one way or another, won’t you? I never asked for this, Charles. I never wanted this. But it never even occurred to you that we didn’t want the same thing. You came running, expecting I’d let you in. I’ve never wanted a soulmate, Charles, and I still don’t. Do you understand?”

            “But you love me.” He hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t even known he’d thought it until the words were already past his lips, fogging up the air between them.

            “Do I? You seem awfully sure of yourself.”

            “No, I’m sure of you. I know you.”

            “You think you know everything; that’s nothing new. But there are things that you’ll never understand.” There was an underlying shade of _I hope you’ll never understand. I don’t want you to understand,_ but the sweeping fury pulled it under and silenced it. “For all your prying and examining, you’re still incredibly naïve. This world isn’t the place you think it is.” _I’m not who you think I am._

            “You’re angry,” Charles said. “I don’t know why you’re angry, though.”

            “You promised to stay out of my mind. You broke that promise.”

            “I tried to keep it, until the bond—”

            “Why do you think I had you make that promise?”

            It struck Charles all at once, and he wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. “You knew it was the Pull. You thought if I blocked you telepathically, it would disrupt the flow of psionic energy and keep us from bonding.”

            Some of Erik’s anger dissipated, leaving only resignation and exhaustion and disappointment in its wake. “I hoped it could be… uncomplicated. Even when I started to sense you, I could tell by your confusion that you hadn’t figured it out, and I thought as long as you didn’t know…”

            “I’m sorry,” Charles told him. “I can keep trying to block you, if it would help. I could teach you techniques for shielding your thoughts, too. This doesn’t have to change things between us.” But Erik was shaking his head.

            “It already has, Charles. You know it has.”

            “What can I do, then?” he pleaded. But he knew the answer even before it came.

            “You can go.”

 

\-------

 

            Charles did the only thing he knew to do: he called Raven. Her phone rang out and went to voicemail, but the sound of it alone was a comfort. “Hello, this is Raven,” the message told him. “I’m not picking up because I have better things to do, but if you leave me a message, I’ll get back to you eventually.” The machine beeped and Charles tried to speak into the receiver but his words came out in a garbled mess.

            “Raven, this is Charles. He—I think—I didn’t mean to, and I don’t think it’s my fault— I mean it probably is my fault but I didn’t know—” He took a deep breath and tried again. “Things aren’t going too well for me just now. Get back to me when you can, would you?”

            He paced through the cabin, just trying to sort out his thoughts, but he couldn’t make them hold still long enough to arrange them. He could still feel Erik in his mind and his mouth was filled with the bitterness of Erik’s disappointment, the sourness of anger and earthy tang of his fear. He went to the sink and gargled mouthwash, but the mint did little to help the taste. Five minutes passed, then five more. Time dragged on. _Theory of relativity at work,_ Charles thought. _It’s like sitting on a hot stove._ He sat on the bed, stood, paced, sat again, rose and paced some more.  Nothing helped. In desperation, Charles called again.

            “Please, please pick up,” he muttered as the phone rang.

            “Hello, this is Raven.  I’m not picking up because—” A click, and then Raven’s voice, rough with sleep.

            “Fuuuck! Do you know what time it is?”

            “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have called, but…” A sigh.  “Something’s happened and I need your help.” Over the line he could hear the faint sounds of his sister pushing back the covers and getting out of bed. Her soulmate muttered something sharp that Charles couldn’t make out, but Charles could almost hear Raven’s smile.

            “Alright. What’s going on?”

            Where could he even start? “It’s Erik. Not that he’s the problem as such, but it’s just that—” That wasn’t a good start at all, but he couldn’t seem to manage anything more than approximate coherence. _Breathe. Keep breathing._ “What I mean is that he’s my soulmate.”

            “Yeah, I’m missing the part where this is bad news. You’ve been pining over this guy for weeks. Aren’t you happy?”

            “I would be, but he isn’t. I couldn’t block him and I saw his dreams…” But that wasn’t the heart of the matter. It would hurt to say it out loud, but sooner or later he was going to have to face it. “He doesn’t want me. Or rather he does, but he doesn’t want _that_ from me, or from anyone. Or doesn’t want to want it. I don’t know why. I don’t even know if he understands it any better than I do.”

            “Oh Charles. I’m so sorry.”

            “I just don’t know what to do with myself right now.”

            “I know. You always get like this when you’re upset.”

            Charles would have liked to deny that, but he knew that she was right. He was almost never blindsided by emotions, but on the rare occasions when it happened, it threw him completely. Even when they’d been little, he’d been apt to say or do the exact wrong thing under those situations, but Raven would cover for him or at least apologize on his behalf. He couldn’t have asked for a better sister, for all that she’d tease him mercilessly about it after he’d calmed down.

            “Ok,” Raven said. “This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to get out of there right away because you really don’t need to be feeling what he’s feeling right now. Are you ok to drive?”

            Charles tried to laugh, but it came out more like a hiccup or a sob. “I’m fine. I haven’t been drinking, if that’s what you’re asking.”

            “Yeah, that was more or less what I was asking. Start packing and drive over here. I’m not going to promise that you’ll feel better being with family, but I know I always prefer to be miserable around other people, given the choice.”

            “You’re sure Emma won’t object?”

            “Doesn’t matter if she does. It’s my house too, and anyway we get along best when we’ve got something to fight about.”

            Charles’s laugh was a little more genuine this time. “In other words, you’re using me as a bargaining chip for hate-sex.”

            “I was going to go with ‘conversational stimulation,’ but that works just as well.”

            “You’re awful.”

            “I know.” Her voice took on a softer quality. “Drive safe, ok?”

            “Safe _ly_ ,” Charles corrected. “But I will, at any rate. And… Thanks.”

            “It’s not a problem. See you soon.”

            It took Charles very little time to pack his clothes away into the travel bag he’d used to transport them to the cabin in the first place. The dishes could stay, as could the bedding. Raven would have spares. That only left Charles’s paperwork, neatly tucked into his satchel… and Erik’s owl. It stood on Charles’s desk, watching him pack with the same glimmering eyes and cocked head that had seemed so charming before. _Dangerous. You said it was dangerous. I should have seen it, should have listened to you, but I was too wrapped up in what I wanted to see and hear._

            “Well,” Charles said to the bird, “It’s not as though you’re at fault here.” Nevertheless, he left it there on the desk, stopping only to stroke its head one last time. “Goodbye, my friend,” he murmured, and a tide of contrasting sorrow and relief told him that Erik had felt his farewell even if he hadn’t been there to hear it.

 

\-------

 

           The drive to Raven’s house was relatively quick, and it helped to get some distance between himself and Erik. Charles could still feel Erik at the back of his mind, but his emotions were hazy and distant. _Good,_ Charles thought. _It’s better this way._ He didn’t quite believe it, but that didn’t matter just now. What mattered was that he was pulling into the driveway and his sister was there, waiting for him just inside those huge wooden doors. Raven. That was a connection he could trust, at least. Raven had always been there for him, just as he’d been there for her. Even at the worst of times, when it had been the two of them against the world, they’d always had each other. And sure enough, there was Raven, opening the door for him before he even had a chance to knock.

           “Oh Charles, you’re a mess,” she sighed, pulling him in for a tight hug. “It’s too late for a drink, or too early, or something, but I’ll make you tea once you get settled in.”

           “I must be a mess if you’re willingly committing acts of domesticity.”

           “Yeah, well, desperate times and desperate measures, you know?”

           She herded him to the guest room, and to his surprise the bed was already made.  He set down his bags, shifted from foot to foot.

           “I think I’ll join you in the kitchen if you don’t object.”

           Raven shrugged at him, just a bit too casually. “Suit yourself.” She led the way, and Charles found that he felt much better once they were in the kitchen. The walls were butter yellow (Raven had insisted on it) and the countertops were polished wood. It was warm in a way that the rest of the house was not. The house had been Emma’s before she’d even met Raven, and so most of the décor was her doing. Emma liked things sleek and modern, and with the exception of the kitchen and Raven’s study, the house was overly spacious and sparsely furnished. Charles approved of the tidiness of it all, but found the amount of empty space unsettling.

           “Do you want to talk about it?” Raven asked. For a moment, Charles thought she might have meant the house.

           Charles sighed. “I don’t know. I could talk about it forever and it still wouldn’t change anything, but it all happened so quickly. Maybe I need to think it through. Something went wrong, but I’m not sure what it was.”

           Raven pressed a box of tea bags into his hands. “Here. Pick your poison.”

           He chose chamomile and added honey once it had steeped. He stirred it idly, but didn’t feel much like drinking it. He felt Emma coming down the stairs and into the living room.

           “Maybe it’s the telepathy,” he mused. “He _did_ want me to stay out of his mind. I can feel that he cares about me, loves me even, but it makes him angry and that doesn’t make sense. If he thought I was manipulating him…”

            “That’s not the problem.”

            “Emma,” Raven said sweetly. “Love of my life, what the fuck are you talking about?”

            Her soulmate was wrapped in a bathrobe made from some kind of white silk or satin and not a strand of her hair was out of place, but she radiated tiredness even as she arranged herself gracefully on the seat next to Raven.

            “He didn’t mention me?” Emma asked Charles. “Owch. And here I am, the closest thing he’s had to a friend since he moved here. I suppose he didn’t tell you where he works.”

            He should have recognized that smirk in Erik’s dream.

            “Frost Designs. He’s one of my best employees, for all that his people skills are abysmal.”

            “You’re one to talk,” Raven grumbled. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything sooner?”

            “I was being good for once and trying not to meddle. Now you see why I usually don’t bother.” She turned back to Charles again. “He doesn’t have a problem with telepaths, but I think you already know that. It must drive him crazy how you’re always apologizing for it.”

            Raven rolled her eyes at Emma. “This is why I didn’t invite you to have tea with us. You’re not making things any better right now.”

            Emma gave her a fond look and kissed her cheek. “Let me try again. What you have to know about Erik is that he doesn’t trust easily. I’ve known him for years, and he certainly doesn’t trust me. Of course you’re a special case, but he’s still not going to put himself in a position of vulnerability without a fight.”

            “It was never my intention to—“

            “Charles, your intention doesn’t matter in this case. This is just what Erik’s like. I’m sure he has some kind of dark past and that’s why he’s so brooding all the time, but whatever he had to deal with scared him away from forming close ties. So he has his reasons, but I think you knew that already.”

            “Yes, I suppose I did.” He thought back to the dream, to the old woman and the young one and how they’d both faded away in the end. “He _told_ me to leave, though.”

            “He does that. The trick is either to ignore it and stay, or to listen and wait for him to realize he’s being an idiot.”

            Raven swatted at Emma’s arm. “I’m sure you chose to ignore it. You have no sense of boundaries.”

            “None at all,” Emma reassured her. “But Charles is much more scrupulous than I am.”

            “You’re saying he’ll change his mind?” Charles asked quietly.

            Emma’s expression sobered and for a moment she almost appeared genuinely concerned. “I hope he will. He could use to have someone in his life other than me. He likes me because I don’t try to hide the fact that I’m motivated by self-interest and because I prefer friendly antagonism to open sympathy. I’m easy to place, in other words. He doesn’t have to worry about whether he can put his faith in me because he knows not to.” Raven kissed her cheek and the solemnity vanished as quickly as it had been there. “You’re not a complete bastard, and he doesn’t know how to deal with that,” she concluded.

            “Well, that certainly gives me something to think about,” Charles murmured.

           

 _I’ll be here when you’re ready_ he thought before he fell asleep. His telepathy could only reach so far, but he hoped the bond would send the message through.


	3. Chapter 3

            On most days, it wasn’t so bad. Teaching, advising, and grading kept him busy. Of course Charles had students who weren’t really interested in Genetics but who needed the credit, but then there were some who showed genuine enthusiasm and listened attentively and just seeing their keen faces was enough to keep him smiling throughout the day. He had pleasant conversations with other professors and enjoyed their company.

            Evenings and nights were harder, though. He did what he could to stay occupied (doing research, reading, and even going to far as to watch television) and yet he still felt the tug of loneliness once the sun went down. He thought of Erik when he went for walks on nights when sleep eluded him, almost expecting to find him in the snow again. He thought of Erik’s drunken smiles and the passion with which he argued. He thought of copper that yielded like cloth and the owl that still sat atop his desk in the cabin in the woods. There were so many things he still wanted to know about the man, and the idea that he might never get a chance to ask was one that he didn’t want to face. It was a possibility, though, and he was going to have to come to terms with it sooner or later. Predictably, he chose later, and instead of worrying over whether or not he’d see Erik again, he made a mental list of the things he’d like to say if he got the chance.

            “I’ve missed you” was there, and “thank you” of course, but some nights there were also “you stubborn bastard” and “I would have stayed if you’d let me.” Mostly though, he wanted to reassure Erik, to tell Erik that he’d be happy just to be his friend: that he didn’t want to pressure him for anything more. Despite his frustration, Charles wanted Erik to know that if the time came, whatever they had would be on Erik’s terms. “I’d be grateful for the chance to just be close to you” was one of the thoughts he wanted most desperately to express. But he had to give Erik the space he needed, and so he said nothing.

            Finals came and went, leaving him without his work to distract him. He tried to absorb himself in recreation to no avail. He and Raven traded years hosting Christmas in their homes (a tradition from when they’d lived significantly further apart) and thankfully this was his year. Planning festivities and sending invitations did a great deal to brighten his spirits. He put up decorations, and if he went a little over the top with it, he figured his guests would excuse it as one of his signature bouts of overabundant enthusiasm.

And besides, he truly did love Christmas. When he and Raven had been children, Christmas had been an unpleasant affair involving itchy clothing worn to some droning mass so their mother could show them off to the other women in the congregation. And then there had always been horrible fruitcakes and distant relatives who pinched their cheeks and then proceeded to ignore them for the rest of the day. Once Charles left home however, Christmas became an occasion to get up to mischief with friends. With most of the country shut in at home, the world was theirs for the taking. Now that he was older, still far from his family of origin but less wont to pull ill-advised pranks, Christmas was a time to spend with his family of choice: his dearest friends, his sister, and her soulmate. It was a time to eat and drink and exchange gifts, but more than that, it was a time to celebrate being with the people he loved: a time to feel safe and warm despite the chill of winter.

            He was well aware that the holidays horribly commercialized status, but nevertheless he enjoyed everything about the pre-Christmas hype from the displays in store windows to the constant repetition of “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas” and “Carol of the Bells” on the radio. Buying presents was his favorite part of all, though. The shops were chaotic and blocking out the crowds took a great deal of effort, but that unpleasantness was a small price to pay for the joy of finding the perfect gift for a loved one. The first gift he picked out this year was a pair of matching sweaters for Alex and Armando, as well as one for Clem, their one-year-old daughter. He got new, sturdier lab equipment for Hank, who was still a little clumsy with his recently developed paw-like hands. There was a leather jacket for Angel, complete with strategically placed zips and paneling to allow room for her wings if she wished to wear it while flying. Moira, practical as ever, had requested new tire chains. Charles was happy to get them for her, but he felt that the gift lacked whimsy. He solved this by wrapping the chains in the most amusingly garish sweater he could find.

            Sean, Raven, and Emma were harder to shop for. Sean tended to be happy with anything, which should have made it easier to find a gift for him but didn’t. Charles had bought so many gifts for Raven over the years that he had begun to run out of ideas, and Emma was just downright picky. In the end, he settled on gift card for Emma, which was rather more impersonal than most of his gifts but which guaranteed that she’d get something she actually wanted. Browsing through the department store where he’d purchased Emma’s card, he spotted a pair of boots that he knew Raven would love, so that just left Sean. Perhaps he’d like a new video game. In many ways Sean was still the boy Charles had met in his first year of college, still constantly looking for new ways to amuse himself. Sean had been the leader of their group’s annual Christmas escapades and he’d always been the one to think of the most inventive pranks.

            Charles was just about to purchase the boots for Raven and make his way to the nearest game shop, but something else caught his eye. Without consciously deciding to leave the line, he drew closer to the object in question. It was a simple thing, really, just a scarf in red plaid accented with purple, but… But it made him think of Erik, for some reason. When he reached out a hand to touch it, he was amazed by its softness. He wanted to rub his face against it and likely would have done so if he hadn’t been in public. More than that, he wanted to wrap it around Erik’s neck, to know that his gift would be keeping his soulmate warm. He was well aware that there was no use thinking those kinds of thoughts, but he purchased the scarf along with the boots regardless.

 

\-------

 

           Christmas came and went in a tide of easy domesticity, which was just what Charles needed. Raven and Emma arrived early to help him cook, and they spent the morning and a good portion of the afternoon preparing and trading snide comments at one another. It was refreshing to be truly busy instead of just trying to keep himself occupied, and by the time the rest of the guests began to arrive his mood was brighter than it had been for weeks. It was wonderful to see his friends all together again, laughing and teasing and loving each other just as much as ever. There was the inevitable chaos of course: Alex made the mistake of sneaking up behind Sean (and really, he ought to have known better!) which resulted in a fractured coffee table. In addition, the smell of smoke lingered in the kitchen even after all the guests had gone. That was Charles’s own fault; he’d been so engrossed in Moira’s account of a car chase that he’d forgotten all about the bread pudding until it had begun to char in the oven. Over all, the party was a success. They’d all exchanged gifts, reminisced over good times, and speculated about the ones yet to come. Nevertheless, Charles felt somewhat drained when his guests left. The house felt at once too small and too empty, and he went to bed with a sense of weary wrongness.

           Perhaps keeping himself busy was the wrong way to go about this. Maybe he needed to stay still long enough to think. He turned down his sister’s invitation for a New Years Eve party and stayed in with his books and his tea. _This used to be enough,_ he thought. _It can be enough again. It just takes time._ But as he directed his eyes back to the page, he noticed a little tug of feeling. It was a small thing, barely noticeable except for the fact that it hadn’t sprung from his own mind at all. He couldn’t make it out at first, but gradually it came into focus: a blend of anticipation, regret, hope, anxiety, and love. It had to be Erik, and yet Charles couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it. Reading quite forgotten, he waited by the door, paced, sat at the table, drummed his fingers upon it, and paced again. When the knock at the door finally came, he felt as though he had been holding his breath for a lifetime, but when he opened the door he found himself breathless all over again because there was there was Erik, dressed in too few layers as always, expression sternly affectless as his mind whirred away like a tempest.

           The night was as still as it was cold, and for once Charles had nothing to say. He had no way to break the silence. While Erik’s mind rushed, Charles’s came to a stop. Erik was there, breathing, and his breath came in little white clouds that vanished into the chill, and how could Charles ever possibly say anything that would mean enough in the face of _this_? And so he stayed just inside of the doorway and gazed at the man who was his at once his opposite and his reflection.

           “You should know,” Erik said. His eyes met Charles’s firmly, but his voice was that of a man on his knees. “You can’t come into this without knowing.”

           “Then tell me.”

           “I can’t do it like this. But you can…” He pressed a hand on his temple, and Charles understood and followed Erik’s mind into a place beyond words. Erik kept his eyes fixed on Charles, but his thoughts drew back purposefully into this strange space, a vague and hazy mindset that Charles had never felt before. The quality of its darkness indicated depth, and yet the pale fog that clouded its surface was shallow and unfocused. Perception was dimmed through the misty veil, and yet he took notice of every flicker of motion, detecting _that_ it was but not _what_ it was.

           <<Is this what the world is like for you?>> Charles asked, a little giddy from the disorientation of this new state and from the joy of finally speaking to Erik in his true voice, feeling Erik with his true senses, completely.

           A negative came in response to the absolute. Not _always_ , then, but sometimes.

           <<You can speak to me with your thoughts; I know you can. Your mind is so strong. I’ve always known—>>

           A shade of regret for the remorse that was absent and an edge of anger at that regret, and then, <<I killed a man, Charles.>>

           Charles didn’t flinch, didn’t withdraw though he felt Erik bracing for it, half hoping for it.

           <<I ripped the iron from his veins and when that wasn’t enough I put a coin through his head. I murdered him, do you understand?>>

           Charles thought of the man from Erik’s dream, and of the pain. <<I can’t understand all of it; I haven’t gone through the things you have—>>

           Erik’s mind snarled and flared, a gash, and the wound bled words in ever-expanding red. _Never, never you, Charles, couldn’t bear it, anything but you, would sooner endure it all again myself, never, never!_

           <<I’m safe,>> Charles told him. <<And so are you. We’re here, we’re alive…>> _We’re together_ , he thought, but he didn’t let that thought reach Erik. He wasn’t sure whether or not Erik was ready to hear it just yet. They stayed like that for a while, Charles’s mind wrapped around Erik’s, projecting soothing, wordless thoughts and slowly Erik’s tension left him. The mist and darkness around Erik’s mind began to fade with it, revealing the smallest glimmering traces of heat and brightness.

           <<Doesn’t it disturb you?>> Erik asked.

           <<Of course it does, but what disturbs me most is that you suffered so much. When I shared your dream, I saw how much pain you were in. In your place, I don’t know that I would have made a different choice. I think I would have done anything in my power to make it stop, so how could I ever think less of you because you protected yourself?>>

           <<I was barely more than a child then, but if I were in the same position now I wouldn’t choose differently.>>

           <<I know that. But I also know that you’re not a killer by nature; you’re a survivor. There’s a greater difference than you realize, and you don’t see it, but there’s so much good in you, Erik. I could feel it even when I tried to block you out.>>

           Erik lowered his eyes, flinching away from the praise. <<How can you just take this in stride?>>

           Charles resisted the urge to lift Erik’s head and instead he thought, <<Look at me.>> He waited until Erik complied and then he continued, <<I’ve witnessed all kinds of things through the minds of other men. When I was a child, I had so little control that I could see everything, even when I didn’t want to, and I learned that there are people who inflict suffering on others without a thought. You’re not one of those people. You’ve never killed for the pleasure of it, only for your own preservation. I can feel how much potential you have, how much good you can do, and it outweighs the violence and the hurt.>>

           Erik seemed at a loss for words, but Charles didn’t need him to speak. He was as sure of Erik as he’d ever been. He’d had his suspicions about his soulmate’s past since the dream, and knowing the truth, however painful, was still a relief.

           << The court ruled that it was self-defense,>> Erik said eventually. <<I went free and I moved as far away as possible. I just wanted to get away from everything and everyone. I wanted to be alone.>>

           <<The night I found you,>> Charles began.

           <<It was the anniversary of my mother’s death. Most years it’s not so bad, but sometimes it just gets to me. This year was the worst it’s been in a long time. In a way, though, she was the one who made me realize I had to come find you. She wouldn’t have wanted me to be alone, and I know she would have loved you as much as…>>

           <<You don’t have to say—>>

           <<This isn’t about having to do anything. And it’s not about the risk, even though it means having something to lose. It’s about what I want, and I want _you_. I have trouble saying it, but that doesn’t make it any less true. I love you. >>

           There was triumph, _I’ve said it, I’ve done it, I didn’t know if I could—_ and in Erik’s mind, the light broke through the last of the gloom and grew, blossomed as Charles reflected it back to him.

           <<Are you sure? You’ve decided…?>>

           <<Yes, I’m sure. I’m here.>>

           <<God, Erik, I love you so much! From the moment I felt your mind, and it wasn’t just the Pull— you were so— and we fit, we’re perfect, we’re together—!>>

           Charles reached out a hand to touch Erik’s cheek and gasped.

           “You’re freezing! Oh, we’ve been standing in the door this whole time! Come in, come in!”

           Erik chuckled at him, a lovely sound, and allowed himself to be dragged into the house and fussed over. “And here I thought I was going to be the one to protect _you_.”

           “You don’t have to,” Charles murmured as he divested Erik of his snow-laden sweater and wrapped a blanket around him. “We’ll protect each other. You and I can do anything, Erik.”

           “Yes, I think we can.” Erik pulled Charles down beside him so that they could share the blanket, and Charles twined his arms about Erik’s neck, reveling in his solid presence.

           “The telepathy doesn’t bother you? I could keep trying to block you, and once our bond is complete I could tune you out—”

           “Don’t,” Erik interrupted. “I should never have asked that of you in the first place. Your powers are a part of you and you shouldn’t change for anyone.”

           “We both made mistakes,” Charles said, drawing back just enough to look him in the eye. “I should have given you time to figure out what you wanted instead of just launching myself at you. I doubt this will be the last time one of us makes the wrong call, but we’ll get through it. We can make this work.”

           “I hope you’re right,” Erik said and kissed him. Charles wound his fingers in the short strands of Erik’s hair, held his soulmate steady, and Erik clutched Charles tightly and grounded him in return.

           <<We can be like this forever if we want to,>> Charles thought, and Erik laughed into the kiss.

           <<Of course you can’t stop talking, even now.>>

           Charles ducked his head to press a kiss to Erik’s breastbone. <<I _could_ stop, but I don’t see any reason to. I love talking to you and knowing you want to hear me. You’re so lovely, Erik. Your mind is spectacular; it shifts like light in water and the minute I think I might be starting to understand it changes again. And you’re mine, you’re here! >>

           Erik stroked Charles’s back, pressed his nose in Charles’s hair. <<Yes, Charles. Yes, I’m here, I’m with you.>> Words distantly recalled breached the surface of his memory, _I_ _am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine._

           <<Of course I’m yours. I have been from the start.>>

           They stayed curled together for what could have been hours or possibly mere minutes. Charles couldn’t keep track of the time with Erik’s heart beating a soothing rhythm under his head. The between Erik and the blanket and the lights from the Christmas tree he had yet to take down, Charles’s world seemed to be entirely made of starlit warmth. The world outside was cold and dark, but here it was safe and cozy and tomorrow the snow would reflect the sun and make the day glisten.

           “It must be almost midnight,” Erik said.

           “Are you ready to be done with 2012?”

           Erik cupped Charles’s face in his hands, kissed the lids of his eyes and the spot just under his jaw. “I was thinking of you when I made the owl, but all I saw was death and all you saw were new beginnings. Maybe we can get a clearer picture if we’re together to balance one another, but even if we can’t, there’s no one I’d rather be with at the start of a new year.”

           Charles could feel Erik pouring over memories of the night they met. Each remembered moment was limned with copper and framed in silver in his mind.

           “I only wish I could remember it more clearly,” Erik said a little ruefully.

           “I can share mine if you like.”

           Erik nodded his assent, then groaned as he saw himself through Charles’s mind. “Please tell me I didn’t say that.”

           “I’m afraid you did, love, but you were very hard to resist.” He sent Erik the memory of his reaction, the thought that had crept in, _Under any other circumstances, I’d have taken you in a heartbeat._

           “And what about now?” Erik asked. His lips parted to reveal a sharp grin and it made the skin of his eyes crinkle. It was such a joy to see him smile and tease again, to know that the playful aspect of their friendship would carry over into whatever came next.

           “Are you propositioning me again?”

           “You’re the telepath, you tell me.”

           “Yes,” Charles said, warm and fond and more than a little giddy. “Yes to everything.”

 

\-------

 

            A beam of sun streamed through the curtains the next morning, and Charles kept his eyes closed, reveling in the light and the feeling of Erik’ arms around his waist. His soulmate’s mind was quiet for once, and Charles hesitated to wake him. Still, he was going to have to get up at some point, and his stomach was already growling. He woke Erik with fluttering kisses and gentle strokes, soft and lingering. Erik mumbled irritably at having his sleep disturbed, but leaned into Charles’s touch all the same.

            “If you let me get up, I’ll make you breakfast,” Charles offered.

            “Don’t want breakfast.”

            “No? Coffee?”

            Erik perked up a bit at that. “Fine, if you must,” he muttered.

            “I’m afraid I have to insist,” Charles said. He kissed Erik’s cheek and untangled their limbs before dressing and padding off to the kitchen. It reminded him of the first morning they’d spent together, sleepy and content: Charles making breakfast while Erik stayed bundled up in his blankets. This time, however, he could allow himself to imagine a life where every morning could be like this one.

            He found a jar of coffee grounds without too much of an effort, and let them steep while he put bread in the toaster and cracked eggs into the frying pan. It had been a while since the last time he’d actually bothered to cook in the morning and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the simple routine of it. It served as a reminder that some things, at least, could be easy, and that was a lesson he could use to keep in mind.

            Erik still hadn’t emerged from the bedroom by the time the meal was ready, and Charles brushed his mind against his soulmate’s to send an inquiry.

            <<You never said _I_ had to get up, >> Erik thought at him. <<But I suppose I can manage for the sake of coffee. Just give me a moment to find my clothes.>>

            <<If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had a lazy side.>>

            “I’ll bend all your knives in half,” Erik threatened as he dragged himself to the table. “Just see if I don’t.”

            “Alright, but it you might find it difficult to spread anything on your toast. What would you like, by the way? I have butter and some assorted jams, should you choose to leave my utensils in tact.”

            “Anything’s fine as long as there’s caffeine involved.”

            Charles grinned at him and passed him a mug along with a plate of toast. “While I may not enjoy your beverage of choice, I’m with you one hundred percent on the issue of caffeine. The best thing about a winter morning is that first cup of tea. Or coffee, in your case. Although the best thing about _this_ morning was waking up next to you.”

            Erik snorted. “Do you realize that you flirt worse when you’re sober than I do when I’m completely wasted?” But in the private space just between their two minds, the message was softer: <<I loved that too.>>

            “Of course it can’t really be like this every morning, can it? You have your sculpting and Emma’s store in Creeks End, and I have classes to teach here. It would end up being a very long commute for one of us no matter where we were. But there are still weekends and…” He trailed off, embarrassed. “Tell me when I’m getting ahead of myself, won’t you? I don’t mean to pressure you into anything and it was a mistake to assume you’d want to stay after one night. I’ve just missed you while we’ve been apart.”

            “It’s alright,” Erik said, taking his hand. “I’m not giving up my place in the woods just yet, but we’ll figure something out. In the meantime, I’d be more than glad to spend the weekends with you.” Erik’s hand was warm from holding the hot mug of coffee and his eyes were bright, the wrinkles showing in his contentment. Charles wanted to wrap Erik’s expression around him on cold nights and…

            “Oh! Just a moment,” Charles said. He rose to check the bedroom closet. He wasn’t sure exactly where he’d put Erik’s gift, but it seemed a decent place to start.

            <<Charles?>>

            <<I have a present for you. I know it’s well past Hanukkah by now, but all the same, I’d like you to have it.>>

           Charles could feel the exact shade of Erik’s smile even from the other room. He managed to find the scarf where he’d hidden it at the back of a drawer, and he returned to the kitchen with the cloth behind his back.

           “I wasn’t sure that I’d ever have the chance to give this to you, but I hoped that I would. Anyway, you never dress warmly enough and you’re bound to get sick if you don’t start bundling up, especially in the middle of winter, so…” He held it out to Erik. “To be honest, the colors made me think of you.”

           Erik took the scarf from his hands and graced him with a smile. “Thank you, Charles. I didn’t get anything for you, but I’m sure I can think of something.”

           “There’s no need,” Charles said. “I have everything I want right here.”

           “Your lines really are atrocious, Charles.” <<But I’m glad I can make you happy.>>

           Erik helped with the dishes and allowed himself to be pulled back to the sofa and held. If Charles’s more tactile nature bothered him, it certainly wasn’t coming through their bond, nor was it apparent from Charles’s telepathy.

           “Did you have anything in particular in mind for New Years day?” Charles asked.

           “I haven’t really been thinking ahead, but I’d like to just stay in with you if that’s alright.”

           “That sounds perfect. Are you warm enough? I could turn the thermostat up if you like.” He shifted to get to his feet, but Erik pulled him back down, mimicking one of Charles’s own impish grins.

           “I assure you,” he murmured in Charles’s ear, “I’ve never been warmer.”


End file.
